


First Taste

by dizzzylu



Series: Have You Ever Met a Boy Who Turned Your World Into a Playground [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, slight D/s undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha's observant, and Jared's willing to play along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to obstinatrix for her patience and encouragement. Thanks to ekbe_vile for the beta. I did make a few tweaks after she looked at it, so any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> For 13chapters and obstinatrix.

It's not like they're dating. They don't go out for dinner and a movie, miniature golf, or any of the other mundane, couple-y things like that. Mostly, they fuck. Sometimes, they have a beer first, but it's really just about the fucking. A 'friends with benefits' situation, if one were to put a label on it.

Not that Misha's looking for a label or anything.

And it's good. Great, even. Jared is...well, he's Jared. Long-limbed and gorgeous. Fun, funny, respectful. He's not bad in the sack, either. Not that they make it to the sack all that often. Maybe around 25% of the time.

Maybe.

Misha's not complaining. He's _not_. It's just. Well. There's this feeling Misha gets when they're together. Like Jared's waiting for something. Hoping for something. And Misha's an observant guy. He notices how much louder Jared is when Misha is the one who's topping. But that doesn't happen as much as it could. Misha's not sure why.

After Jared's seventh win in a row at Words with Friends, Misha's annoyed and frustrated. It's not that he thinks Jared is stupid and should be easy to beat. It's just that Misha's a competitive guy, and seven losses in a row is simply unacceptable.

Misha thinks maybe his motivation is lacking. After all, there are only so many pranks one can play when making good on a bet. The coin payment was awesome at the time, but he still has change rattling around in the gearshift of his car, so not quite as hilarious in retrospect. Then there was the time, after the fifth win, when he surprised Jared with five strippers. _Male_ strippers.

(Misha had wanted to tweet the picture of Jared's face when they walked in, but Jensen intervened at the last second. In hindsight, it was probably for the best.)

So, somewhere between losing the eighth game and finding them in bed a few nights later, a plan begins to form. It starts with Misha tugging a little too hard on Jared's hair, forcing him down onto the bed, and the helpless whimpers Jared makes. The way his legs fall open that much wider, an unconscious movement that sends all of Misha's blood running south.

Even still, the idea doesn't fully form until a few days later, when they're on set waiting for the director's call and Jared is asking him what the stakes are for their newest game. As the loser, _again_ , Misha is the one to choose how much they play for. He stays silent for long minutes, trying to think of the best way to put it, to make the proposal sound both vague and ominous. Finally, he says, "I want one night. With you. Doing anything I want."

Jared snorts, smiles. "And what happens when I win?"

"You get a night to do anything you want with me."

"Yeah, but I'm not as kinky as you."

"Jared," Misha sighs, "this isn't about sex." Well, for Misha it is, but he doesn't want Jared to know that yet, so he goes on to explain. "At least, it doesn't have to be. If you want me to wash your dishes, I'll wash your dishes. Do your laundry, I'll do that. Hell, I'll even walk your dogs," he finishes with a shrug. "It's all in what you make of it."

Jared looks both dubious and thoughtful. It's not the weirdest wager they'll ever make, but Misha can tell the idea intrigues Jared. He's thinking about it, at least, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his knee as he attempts to poke holes in Misha's plan. When he can't, he stills. "I guess I can agree to that," he says, a little cocky. "I'll just start making a list of all the things that need doing around the house."

"Just remember Padalecki, it's only for one night. Dusk 'til dawn."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. One night." He jiggles his knee, suddenly nervous, and darts a look at the crew. "You gonna start the game or should I? Looks like they'll be ready soon."

Misha looks over and, sure enough, the lighting people are starting to scatter. The director is motioning for Jensen, a new PA hovering close to his elbow. They've got maybe ten minutes before they're needed on set, and Misha plucks his iPhone from his overcoat pocket, intending to make the most of it. "I'll get us started."

* * *

The game takes longer than usual, with Misha taking extra time on his turns, but he does end up winning in the end. By a mere twelve points, but winning is winning.

They don't hook up at all during that time either, whether by design or by chance, Misha can't be certain. And due to a string of night shoots, plus two conventions scheduled far too close together, they're unable to schedule their night until almost a month later.

A month far too long for any sexually active person to abstain, Misha decides.

So, it's no surprise that he feels strung a little too tight when Jared finally shows up. He had asked Misha if there was anything special he should wear -- a ballerina costume, clown suit, nothing at all. Misha only smirked and said, "Wear whatever's comfortable."

He's picked a soft pair of jeans and an old, threadbare t-shirt with a hole at the neck. Misha has the small, irrational urge to stick his finger in it and trace a line over Jared's collar bone. Instead, he hands Jared a beer and motions him inside.

It's early still, not yet dusk, but it's not far away. Misha had promised Jared dinner and, minutes after Jared arrives, the pizza guy shows up. Between the two of them, they polish off most of a margarita pizza, and some of a Hawaiian. Castiel isn't in the episode they'd been shooting for the week, so Jared tells him about what went on, how he and Jensen nearly reduced Bob's new PA to tears (entirely on accident, of course), and how their latest guest star was a bit of a diva.

This sort of thing is what they do when Jensen's around, shooting the shit and getting drunk besides, but it's just as easy with him as without. Jared's still loud and antsy, hair falling softly in his face so that he has to push it back every so often. Misha lets himself enjoy it, tamping down hard on the need to get Jared up to his bedroom. There's no rush, after all; they have all night..

Eventually, Jared breaks the spell, looking around the kitchen as if what Misha wants from him is lurking around the corner. He's smiling, but there's a hesitation to it. It shouldn't send a little thrill through Misha, but it does.

"Where d'you want me?" Jared asks. He blushes then, his cheeks turning a pretty pink, and he clears his throat. "I mean, what do you have planned for me?" His hands rub nervously over his thighs.

Misha starts putting away the leftovers so he doesn't have to look at Jared when he says, "I think the first question was more accurate. And if I answer the second, well, that would ruin the surprise." There's a little more attitude in his voice than he intended, but he figures that's what Jared expects of him anyway.

He turns to find Jared still on the stool at the counter, looking a little like a skittish colt. "I'm gonna need a safe word, aren't I?"

Misha chuckles and approaches Jared, lifts a hand to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind Jared's ear. With Jared sitting, they're about the same height, so his hand continues on to cup the back of Jared's head and pull him for a kiss. It's meant to be comforting, to help Jared relax. But it also has a filthy flick of tongue at the end of it, something like a promise.

Jared makes a pleased sound low in his throat as he pulls away. His eyes have slipped closed and when he opens them, they look a little dreamy. He licks his lips. "Is that a no then?" His voice is lower, smoother.

Misha tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling him off the stool. He doesn't look back when he says, "No, that wasn't a no."

Jared doesn't resist being dragged down the hall by his clothes. Doesn't say anything when Misha pushes him onto the bed. Stays quiet when Misha motions for him to scoot back, then crawls his way up Jared's long legs to straddle his lap. It isn't until Misha has Jared's shirt off that Jared asks, "Really Misha? Fucking? I thought you were far more imaginative than that. We could've gone the furries route. Leather fetish. Group s--"

Misha cuts him off with a kiss, his hands fisting in Jared's hair and tilting his head back. Misha swallows the little whimper as he fucks Jared's mouth with his tongue. He ends it with a sharp nip to Jared's lower lip.

"This isn't just fucking," he states, hands releasing Jared's hair and dropping to the buckle of Jared's belt. "Well, it is. But more." Once the belt is open, he splays his palm against Jared's chest and pushes. He isn't gentle about getting Jared's jeans off, but he leaves the boxers on.

"More how?" Jared asks, propping himself up on his elbows so he can look around. "I don't see any whips or handcuffs. So I'm thinking no bondage or BDSM."

Misha crawls back up the bed, an arm and a knee on either side of Jared's long, lean legs, and straddles Jared's hips. "I don't need toys or restraints for what I'm going to do to you." He grinds his ass down against Jared's groin, grins when Jared lets out a long, low breath. "Unless you want me to?"

Jared chuckles. "I thought tonight was about what you want."

"Ah yes," Misha says, hooking his hand behind Jared's neck and pulling up. "What I want." This kiss is a mix of their first two, gentle sucking at Jared's lips, then wet and dirty thrusts of his tongue into Jared's mouth. Jared tries to keep up, but as soon as he gets into one gear, Misha changes. It keeps Jared guessing, which is exactly how Misha wants it.

Misha pulls back, smiling at Jared's small huff of confusion. His hands fall from Jared's face to his chest, his thumbs sweeping a soft rhythm over Jared's nipples. "What I want is for you to lie back and relax."

Jared still looks confused, but falls backward anyway, hands tucked underneath his head. Misha watches him close his eyes and then slips his own t-shirt off. The air is cool on his skin, a welcome relief.

Misha, always one for a little self-indulgence, takes a moment to admire the way Jared looks in his bed. From the dark spill of hair over white sheets to broad, golden shoulders, straining slightly from the position they're in. Misha wishes for a moment that Jared hadn't slipped his hands underneath him so that he could see the slim, blunt fingers splayed out over the comforter, knuckles turning white when he grabs fistsful of material.

Jared's chest and stomach are tan and smooth, the only bit of hair is the narrow line just under his belly button. Misha brushes his thumb against the grain of it. His thumbnail drags slow over Jared's belly button; Jared gasps.

A small voice is telling Misha that what he's about to do maybe be crossing some line neither of them has yet acknowledged. Transitioning the relationship from friends with benefits into something...more. Something that might require a discussion.

But that all can wait.

Right now, Misha has miles of skin at his disposal, begging for his lips and teeth and tongue, and he is more than willing to oblige.

He starts with the pulse in Jared's neck, nibbling and sucking a bruise into the skin. Jared murmurs and tilts his head to the side, giving Misha more room to maneuver. Misha's hand skims up the other side of Jared's neck into his hair and pulls, tugging hard to tip Jared's head back, exposing his Adam's apple. He drags his teeth over it once, then again as Jared swallows. Jared tries to move his head and Misha's fingers tighten, keeping him in place.

Jared chuckles low and dirty. "Feeling a little bossy tonight?"

Misha straightens to see Jared smirking at him, eyes bright. "You're physically incapable of shutting up, aren't you?" It's less of a question than it sounds, and he leans in to kiss Jared before he can answer. His thumb rests against the corner of Jared's mouth, then slips in after Misha pulls away. Jared nips at it.

"This is about what I want, remember?" Misha asks, brows arched. "And if I have to move you myself to get you where I want you, I will."

Jared's eyes darken, his tongue swipes wetly at the pad of Misha's thumb. "Yeah," says on an exhale. "Got it."

Misha nods once, then leans down to get back to work. He drags his lips over Jared's collar bone, uses his free hand to tease Jared's nipples into hard, tight peaks. He's looking for the spots that'll get Jared to relax, to make him come just that little bit more undone.

There's one on his right side, between the ribs. Misha brushes it first with this thumb, then his lips after Jared squirms. His teeth scrape it and Jared gasps, short and high. Misha smiles.

A little further down on the same side is another, just above his hip. Misha's knuckles brush against it on accident, but then Jared tries to shift into the touch, so Misha does it again. He leaves it alone after that, making a mental note to revisit it later.

He shifts back, straddling Jared's legs instead of his hips, and hooks his fingers into Jared's boxers. They're nicely tented already, wet where they cling to Jared's cock. Slowly, carefully, he pulls them down, letting them drag along Jared's obscenely long legs.

Misha decides to get himself naked too, slipping off the bed so he can push at his jeans and boxers until they pool at his feet. As he climbs back onto the bed, his hand slides up Jared's leg, the hair bristling against his palm. Jared's whole body breaks out into goosebumps at the touch.

He settles in between Jared's legs, pushing them out and up to give himself room. Jared takes the hint and plants his feet flat on the bed. Misha rewards him by giving his cock one long, soft stroke with his hand. Jared groans.

They've never done this much, Misha realizes. Thinks maybe it's a little weird that they skipped the rushed hand job and blow job phase and moved straight into the fucking. He knows what it feels like to be split open by Jared, all his nerves lighting up every time Jared pistons in, hitting Misha's prostate, but he doesn't know what Jared's cock tastes like. His mouth waters at the thought.

He looks up through dark lashes to find Jared staring at him, taking in little, hitching breaths. Keeps watching Jared as he sinks down, mouth wide and wet, until his lips meet his hand wrapped around the base. Jared lets out a stuttered groan when the head bumps against the roof of Misha's mouth. If Misha could grin, he would.

Jared, Misha decides, tastes of sweat and salt, but underneath that is something more. Something light. It reminds Misha of hot July days spent in the sun, skinny dipping in the pond, rolling around naked in the grass until the sun dries his skin. Misha pulls off slow, letting the barest hint of his teeth skim along Jared's length, and shakes his head. Now is not the time to be writing poems about Jared's cock.

On either side of him, Jared's legs stand tall and tense, the muscles of them trembling. Misha smooths his free hand over one, letting it settle in the groove of Jared's hip. He sinks down on Jared's cock again and starts a slow, languid rhythm. To his credit, Jared is trying very hard not to thrust up into it, but Misha doesn't make it easy when he swirls his tongue over the head, collecting the precome as he goes.

One wide, heavy hand presses against Misha's head, fingers flexing and clenching in time with Misha's rhythm. It's not exactly forcing him into doing anything, but Misha figures it's only a matter of time until that happens. He pulls off with a wet pop and wraps one hand around Jared's wrist. His fingers dig into the soft skin just under the thumb, not hard enough to leave a bruise, but enough to serve as a warning.

"If you need something to do with your hands," Misha suggests, "feel free to use the headboard. It won't break. Not even for your freaky paws."

The headboard in question is a design Misha came up with. As one of the few pieces of furniture not made from reclaimed wood, Misha made sure it was good and sturdy, would hold up to the toughest abuse possible. Made from beech, each spindle is hand-carved so that no two are exactly alike. They're rounded and smooth, perfect for gripping.

Also perfect for trying wrists to, but Misha's pretty sure Jared doesn't want to know that. Yet.

Jared tips his head back and grins, makes a show of wrapping each large hand around a spindle. Misha's fairly certain Jared picks the farthest ones possible on purpose; he won't deny it does lovely things for Jared's biceps. Still, he arches a brow, his hand still gripping Jared's cock, jerking him off soft and slow.

"You didn't tell me where to put them," Jared gets out, his voice a little shaky. "So I figured it was my choice."

"You have a point." He flicks his thumb against the bundle of nerves under the head, drags his nail over the slit. Jared hisses, his hips bucking, and Misha does it again. He smears the leaking precome down Jared's cock, his thumb pressing hard against the vein along the way. Jared shifts his hips again, a movement Misha rolls with, and Misha's about to give him a warning, but Jared quickly settles.

"Just getting myself more comfortable," he says, voice sandpaper rough.

Misha looks him over, the flush in his cheeks spreading down to his chest, the sweat licking at his collar bone, the hollow of his throat, the definition of his abs. The groove of his hip gleams with sweat, too, and Misha's hit with the overwhelming urge to lick there, so he does. Then he moves up, nosing along Jared's mid-line, sucks a kiss into the skin where neck meets shoulder. He gasps when his cock bumps against the tip of Jared's, like he's just now realizing how hard he is.

He's not, he's just been focused on other things.

In this position, Misha finds he fits near perfectly in the cradle of Jared's pelvis, his cock slotting into the groove like it's meant to be there. His own precome mixes with Jared's sweat, providing sufficient lubrication for Misha to rut into.

His forehead bumps against Jared's chin, the stubble scratchy against his skin, and he can feel Jared's breaths gusting through his hair, each one made a little gravely with a groan from Jared.

The both of them are sweaty and leaking, making a mess over their skin. Misha can tell Jared's getting close. Despite the order not to move, his hips are thrusting into it, tiny little aborted circles that are starting to fall apart.

Misha reaches down between them, knuckles sliding through the mess, to wrap around the base of Jared's cock. He squeezes, thumb against the vein, and Jared lets out a choked growl.

It's harder to keep up a rhythm with one hand holding himself up and the other keeping Jared from coming. He looks up, eyes blurry, and barks out, "Use your hand, I want your hand."

Jared looks up, confused, on the brink himself. Then, carefully, frees one and circles Misha's cock with it. The thumb sweeps over the head on the way down, has Misha cursing, thrusting a little erratically.

There's the familiar coil in his belly, the tightening of his balls, and in two firm strokes, he's coming all over Jared's hip. Underneath him, Misha realizes Jared's hips are still moving, cock sliding in and out of the loosening circle of Misha's hand.

Through his haze, Misha can tell Jared is close, recognizes it in the arch of his neck, his needy, gasping moans. He tightens his hold and sits back on his knees, panting and shivering, so he can press Jared's hips into the bed. It was almost too late, too soon. Jared lets out a broken sob, his entire body straining toward Misha, looking for release. Jared's hand, the one he used on Misha, lays open on the bed, fingers curled and twitching like he's still working Misha over.

Misha takes a moment to pull himself together, gasps for breath as his eyes focus on the splatter of come over Jared's hip. At the top of the bed, Jared's panting, eyes squeezed shut, chunks of hair plastered to the sweat on his face. Gently, Misha lets his cock go and leans up on his hands and knees, blanketing Jared's torso with his own.

Jared's mouth is slack, the wet inside of it glistening and pink. He licks at the upper lip, sucks on the lower, then tilts his head and swipes his tongue at the corner once, twice. Jared turns his face into the motion, just like Misha wanted. Misha keeps the kiss unhurried, puts his weight on his elbows so he can thread his fingers through Jared's hair. He finger-combs the hair away from Jared's face, fingernails scraping light against his scalp, and he smiles when he feels the vibration of Jared's purr through his chest.

"You doing ok?" he asks, pulling away to put some space between them.

Jared licks his lips, his face looking soft and pleased, and his breathing is coming easier. Misha hopes this breather will help Jared hold out just a little bit longer. "You are a cruel bastard," he says finally, but he gives Misha a tilted smile and hums, his loose hand once again wrapping itself around a spindle, which hopefully means he's enjoying himself anyway.

Misha chuckles. "You _have_ met me before, right?" He doesn't wait for an answer, though. Slinks his way back down Jared's body, fingers trailing through the mess of come and sweat smeared over Jared's hip, and slicks his hand over Jared's cock. He keeps his strokes tight and steady, watching the drooling, pink head of Jared's cock disappear in the circle of his fingers. Jared's hips twitch on each upstroke, an involuntary reaction Misha's in the mood to forgive, and the bed creaks.

Misha's not worried about that, though. Is only focused on Jared's panting, his soft little cries. With his other hand, Misha cups Jared's balls, his thumb stroking soft over the tight skin of them. It's what finally makes Jared seize up, seconds away from coming, and Misha lets him go, shifts so that he's straddling Jared's waist and holds him down, hands gently petting Jared's biceps.

Jared's chest heaves under Misha, his lungs desperate for oxygen. His body thrums too, poised for orgasm as it is. It makes Misha smile, one hand reaching up to thumb away the sweat at the corner of Jared's eye.

"Still with me?"

Jared glares at him through slitted eyes. "Barely," he grits out in between panting breaths.

"Good enough." Misha leans forward to snag the bottle of lube off the nightstand, pours a generous amount into his palm. He reaches back with his lubed hand to stroke Jared and he jerks hard. Misha rolls with it, watches Jared sink his teeth into his lip to try and stifle his cries. Misha works him harder in response.

And just like before, right as Jared lets out a jagged cry, Misha lets go, his thumbnail dragging over the head. Misha smiles at Jared's whine.

"I didn't realize death was part of the deal," Jared huffs out, voice strained.

Misha makes a small noise of disapproval and slips his leg from Jared's side so he can knee walk down the bed. "You're not going to die from lack of orgasm," he snarks, settling again in between Jared's spread legs. He rests his clean hand on the underside of one thigh and kneads at the tense muscle. Gently, he lifts the leg and straightens it out, easing Jared's strain.

His other hand rests on Jared's groin, his thumb stroking at the perineum, reaching lower and lower with each pass. Misha watches the tiny shivers roll through Jared, the way his cock drools precome over his stomach, smearing it every time he shifts. Then Misha's fingers are slipping lower, gliding wet and soft over tightly furled muscle.

Misha doesn't know what Jared does when they're not together. They never agreed to be monogamous, and neither of them are stupid enough to not use condoms. But if Misha had to guess, he'd say Jared is very rarely a bottom. At least, he tops more with Misha than Misha does, so Misha's just extrapolating. Which is why he keeps his fingers gentle as they tease at Jared's tight hole, rubbing circles around it to get Jared used to the pressure. Just like he hoped, Jared's legs spread just a little bit wider and his hips try to push into it. Tiny, hitching circles Misha is able to still with his hand on Jared's hip.

Misha starts with one finger, just the tip, dipping in nice and slow. It stops when he encounters resistance, and he slides it in and out, gently teasing at the ring of muscle to get it to loosen up. It does and he slides in a little further, up to the second knuckle. Already, Jared's hands are clenching and unclenching on the headboard. He's making a reedy, keening noise. Misha wonders if Jared's even aware of it.

Jared's hips lift when Misha's not paying attention and just like that, his finger is all the way in, Jared hot and tight and clenching around it. There's a choked off cry -- Jared's -- and then Misha's slipping in and out, slow and easy.

Once Jared is used to that, not quite so tight anymore, Misha starts adding a second finger, using the same process he did before, leisurely yet deliberate.

Misha's torn between watching the slick slide of his fingers, and the expressions flitting across Jared's face. He keeps his thrusts deep, pulling out almost all the way, then pushing in up to the last knuckle, his thumb brushing the underside of Jared's balls every time. His wrist twists, his fingers searching, and he's immensely glad he happens to be looking at Jared's face when he manages to brush over the prostate with the soft pads of his fingers. Jared's whole face lights up and his body seizes, one long curve arching off the bed. A burst of precome slips down his cock. Misha collects it with his free hand and adds it to the lube smeared over his fingers.

Now that Misha's found Jared's prostate, he uses it to get Jared to relax and accept three fingers. His other hand wraps around the base of Jared's cock, squeezing in rhythm of his thrusting fingers, but otherwise preventing Jared from coming. Misha can feel Jared's need, hot and pulsing in his hand, but he's not done yet. He's just started getting hard again himself, and though Jared isn't going to last all that much longer, not for his first time, Misha's determined to make him hold off as long as possible.

Jared is coming apart so beautifully under Misha's hands. His skin glows in the dim light, more golden than should be possible and his hair, damp around the edges, is still slicked back from Misha's earlier petting. That is, Misha thinks, the only downside to Jared's being so tall; it makes it a little more difficult to be in two places at once. One hand grabbing Jared's hair just the way he likes and tilting his head back to kiss him, the other just able to reach his hard cock, too stretched out between the two to enjoy either of them very much.

But then Misha imagines how it'll feel to have those obscenely long legs wrapped around him and he can't really complain about Jared's height at all.

A long, low " _Shit_ " from Jared brings Misha back to the present, and he realizes almost too late that Jared's seconds away from coming, pulls his fingers out and clamps down tight on Jared's cock at the same time. Jared's panting, his hips twitching. He tries to lick his lips, but his tongue is dry. Eventually, he manages to ask, "You're gonna let me come sometime before dawn, right?" between gasping breaths.

Misha leans over to lick a long sordid stripe up Jared's cock, suckles a little at the head. Jared's cock is red and hot in Misha's hand. A burst of pride blooms wide behind his lungs. "Eventually," he says, sucking kisses into Jared's body as he crawls up for a kiss.

He reaches for the nightstand again, for the strip of condoms that's been waiting there. Rips one off with his teeth, his eyes never leaving Jared's.

"Thank Christ," Jared mutters, lips quirking into a shaky grin.

Misha leans up again, as if to kiss him, but gives the lower lip a sharp nip. "Keep it up, I'll make you wait longer." The way Jared's eyes darken even further shoots straight to Misha's cock.

"Oh Jared," Misha croons, sitting back on his heels to slip the condom on. "We really need to teach you how to hide your emotions better." He pushes three unrelenting fingers into Jared, then grasps his own cock. Circles the tip of it around Jared's slick, pink rim once, and starts to sink in.

Misha keeps it slow yet steady, wanting to push Jared, but needing to keep him from coming too soon, as well. With one hand propping himself up on the bed, he uses the other to hitch Jared's leg up onto his hip. The awkwardness of it, Jared's leg so long and slip-sliding in the sweat, keeps Misha's rhythm erratic. But the strain is too much for one arm, and Jared's leg is _heavy_.

He whispers Jared's name, waits as his eyes flutter open. "Your other leg. Can you?" Jared's lips press together in a firm line, but he nods. A tiny jerk of his head, and then his leg is up and his ankles are hooked together behind Misha's thighs. The weight of it feels nice, but Misha can't pull out as far as he wants to so that he can thrust back in, really make Jared feel it. Plus, he doesn't feel like he's getting as deep as he could.

He slips one arm under Jared's thigh, cradling the back of Jared's knee in the crook of his elbow, does the same with the other. This tilts Jared's pelvis up, and quite suddenly, Misha is hitting Jared's prostate. He slows on Jared's yelp, dragging the sensation out, and Jared's whole body shudders.

Jared's close, so close. His cock is leaking almost continuously, pulsing hard and hot between their bellies. Misha figures the friction he's creating with his thrusting isn't helping things, either. He looks up at Jared's face, eyes squeezed tightly shut, teeth digging hard into his lip and he can't do it anymore, shoves deep into Jared over and over and says, "Jared, Jay. It's ok, you can let go now."

"I can't," he says, voice broken and shaky.

Misha rolls his hips down, pressing hard against Jared's cock. "You can. C'mon, let go. Let me see." And he wants to. They've never fucked face to face, so watching Jared's face as he falls apart, little by little, has been half the fun here. Half the beauty.

He rolls his hips again in silent encouragement, leans down to suck a bruise into the skin just above Jared's nipple, and that's it. Jared's whole body seizes up, his mouth falling open on a silent cry. His cock spurts hotly between them, come slicking their bellies and chests. Misha keeps driving into him throughout, his rhythm stuttering only when Jared arches up off the bed, trying both to get away from Misha's cock hitting his prostate and pushing himself down on it, too.

Jared's panting, little whining noises spill from his lips. Dimly, Misha can hear himself murmuring to Jared, "So fucking hot, I knew it. Can't hold on. Gonna, _fuck..._ " His last thrust is hard, deep, his cock pulsing against the heat of Jared, who's still clenching down on Misha, vice-tight.

Misha collapses, his arms folding under his weight. Carefully, he eases them out from under Jared's legs, which fall, half-bent, on either side of Misha's hips. His breathing is a roar in Misha's ear, pressed as it is against Jared's chest. But it's a sign that he's alive, so Misha counts it as a win.

Some time later, Misha feels the muscles in Jared's chest shift and a soft weight thumps against the bed. Misha peeks one eye open to see Jared's hand resting palm up not far from his side. The fingers are lightly curled still, no doubt stiff from clinging so tightly to the bed. Misha reaches out and smooths his palm over one, a gentle pressure to relax the muscles. "You gonna be ok?"

Jared chuckles, low and breathless. One hand lifts to pat Misha on the head. "Can't get rid of me that easily." He pauses, his hand sliding off to rest against Misha's shoulder, hot and heavy. "I'm rather sticky, though."

Misha gets up then, in stages. Checks first to make sure his arms will bear his weight. Drops a kiss to Jared's chest, lapping a little at the come there. His knees are stiff, his legs slightly jelly-like. He is able to make it to the bathroom, though, grabs a washcloth from the shelf, wets it down, and wipes himself off.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, hair crazier than usual from Jared's hand, eyes still mostly black and a little blurry, lips plush and pink and teeth bitten, chest and neck still flushed red. He laughs at how wrecked Jared can make him look without even using his hands.

Misha rinses the rag out, then brings it out to Jared, lets it drop on his chest with a quiet splat. Jared doesn't twitch. Only his legs have moved since Misha left him.

He bumps Jared's hip with the back of his hand. "Wipe yourself off. I'm gonna get some water." His boxers are on the floor at the end of the bed and he slips them on before heading to the kitchen.

When Misha gets back, Jared is sitting up, his back against the headboard, legs tucked underneath the sheets. His head is tipped back, eyes closed, and it draws Misha's attention to the bob of his Adam's apple. Misha wants to drag his knuckles over the bump of it, suck another bruise into the skin. A mirror image of the one over Jared's pulse.

Later.

He hands Jared a bottle, slips into the bed beside him, leaving his legs splayed open on top of the covers. Jared murmurs a thanks, then swallows half the water in two loud gulps. Misha shivers and wipes at a stray drop left behind on Jared's lip. "Better?"

"Mmm, yep." Jared keeps his eyes closed, but tilts his head toward Misha. He's smiling.

Misha reaches for his hand and searches for the pulse in his wrist. "You sure? I was afraid your heart stopped for a minute there."

"Ha ha." He pulls his hand from Misha's grasp and downs the rest of his water. "You aren't that talented, Mish."

Misha chuckles, low and dirty. "Oh Jared. You say that now. Just wait until dawn."


End file.
